


Long distance

by robokittens



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-24 20:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12020589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens
Summary: It's not like they've never gone without sex before — Richard, personally, has gone literal consecutive years without sex, like, a number of years, and these last few months haven't changed that so drastically. But.





	Long distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [joycecarolnotes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joycecarolnotes/gifts).



> so apparently our lovely jcn had a hankering for phone sex that the fandom was not delivering on and, well, i do what i can. written in well under twenty-four hours and not beta'd or anything (thank u as always to reserve for reassuring me it didn't suck!), but here it is.

"This conference is dumb," Richard says. Whines, really; he knows he's whining but he can't help it, pressing his phone up to his face like he can get closer. Crawl inside it and get transported, somehow, beam himself from cell tower to cell tower until he's back in Palo Alto and back in — 

"It's not dumb," Jared says. Sighs. "It's an excellent PR move, and —"

"It's dumb because you're not here." He says it quickly, the words tumbling from his mouth almost like he couldn't have stopped them if he'd tried. He didn't try very hard.

Jared's voice is soft when he says, "I wish I could be."

It was — fucked up, frankly, that he got invited to speak at this conference but they wouldn't let him bring his team. Or. Wouldn't pay, anyway, which — to be fair, they paid for Richard's flight. They're paying him to speak, which is a questionable decision on anyone's part, honestly, but. He can't blame them. Really. He doesn't, technically, need his Head of Business Development for this.

But he needs Jared. "I miss you," he says, whines again. 

Jared laughs, low and genuine and clearly, somehow, not laughing _at_ Richard. 

"I miss you too, baby," he says, and Richard feels the swoop in his stomach that always accompanies that particular pet name.

"Y- yeah?" he says. "You really do?"

"Of course." Jared's voice drops to just above a whisper when he asks, "Are you alone?"

Richard straightens up, looks around himself as if there's going to be someone else in this neat, impersonal hotel room. It's — a really, really standard hotel room, honestly, with one full-size bed as yet untouched and one desk that somehow has all his crap sprawled over it even though he hasn't even been here a full day, and one of those weird little chaise lounge things up against the window. Everything is ugly patterns, bland colors.

"Yeah," he says. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"How long until you have to present?" Jared asks. It's a non-sequitur, but — Richard squirms, just slightly, in his seat. He's still in the t-shirt and jeans he wore on the plane, his nicer clothes for later hanging in the closet. His eyes flit to over to the open closet door.

"Two hours. The — there's already things going on; I should probably get over there. Soon," he says reluctantly. He's not the keynote speaker or anything, hardly, but there's still a few speakers before him and it seems rude not to watch them. There's some stuff he wanted to check out. People he should probably (ugh) mingle with.

"Oh," Jared says. He sounds almost disappointed. "I was hoping we could … hmm, well. Nevermind. Perhaps later."

"Perhaps — what? Perhaps what later?"

"Go," Jared says. "Get ready. I'll watch the livestream, I promise. Just … call me. Afterward."

"Okay?" Richard says. He's — a little puzzled, but. He'll call Jared. Of course he'll call Jared. "Don't watch the livestream," he says finally. "I'm gonna be a mess."

"You're not going to be a mess," Jared says firmly. "Call me, okay?"

"Okay," Richard says, and then there's nothing but silence as Jared hangs up.

 

—

 

He's not a mess. Not as such.

Speaking goes — okay. He's a lot better at it than he used to be; he has his lines memorized and he can deliver them almost entirely without stuttering. It's better once he gets into it, really gets going. He could talk about Pied Piper for hours, honestly; he can handle twenty five minutes.

The hard part was the fucking mingling afterward, people coming up and clapping him on the back and making small talk, congratulating him on his work and asking the kinds of questions that weren't interesting to answer. At least he made it back to his hotel room without giving away any trade secrets this time.

He toes off his dress shoes the second he's locked the door behind him, and does a few awkward little hops getting his socks off, too. The hotel carpet is just as plush as it looks, which is nice.

He puts his phone on the nightstand and goes to take his third shower of the day; this one is more of just a rinse, washing the stink of the conference off himself. God, he can't wait to go home. Tomorrow morning can't come soon enough.

The hotel was kind enough to supply a bathrobe as plush as the carpet, and he wraps himself in it after he towels off, making his way finally to the bed.

Jared answers on the first ring.

"Hello!" he says brightly. "Hold on. Let me just —" There's a pause, some muted noises on Jared's end, then suddenly silence before Jared starts speaking again. "There we go! Sorry about that. The documentary I was watching gets very loud."

"Oh. Have you, uh — is it one you've watched before?"

"A few times," Jared says. "But more importantly — I watched the livestream! Richard, you were fantastic."

"Not, uh." He can feel himself flushing. "Not really? But. Thanks."

"You know I love listening to you," Jared says earnestly.

"Oh, hey. What did you want to tell me earlier?"

Jared laughs. It echoes, just slightly; Jared must be walking down the hall of his condo, moving from the TV in the living room to — his bedroom? Maybe? Richard closes his eyes, imagines the number of paces it takes to get from one end of the condo to the other. They don't always make it all the way.

"I watched the livestream," Jared says again, instead of answering. Richard hears a door shut: it seems superfluous, since he lives alone, but Jared always shuts his bedroom door when he's inside. So, definitely the bedroom. "You looked — incredible. So passionate, so dedicated, and so —" 

"So …?" Richard prompts.

Jared's voice is low when he finally says, "So sexy."

"Um," Richard says. He can feel the blush spreading up his ears, down his chest. He'll never — never get used to Jared saying these things about him, he doesn't think. It's going on four months since that first awkward kiss, and he still can't believe it's true, that this is really happening to him.

"All I could think about was peeling that sweater off of you," Jared murmurs. "Unbuttoning your shirt. Sinking to my knees in front of you. What — what are you wearing now? Have you changed?"

"Oh." Richard laughs a little, high pitched and nervous. "I took a shower. I'm wearing, uh — a robe. A bathrobe. It's green?"

A pause from the other end of the line. "Is that it?"

"What? Just the — yeah. Just the bathrobe."

He's just starting to worry that he's done something wrong, that this phone call required some other form of dress, when he hears Jared let out a long breath.

"That's good," Jared says. "That makes it very easy for me. Are you in bed?"

"Yeah," Richard breathes. He has some idea of where this is going now, and he's not — not sure he's ready for it. Exactly. Not sure he'll be any good at it. But Jared will carry him through; he always does.

"Close your eyes," Jared says, and Richard does. It's easy enough to comply with Jared's even tone washing over him. "Are you hard?" he asks, and Richard sucks in a breath through his teeth.

"Not — not yet," he says honestly. He can feel the first stirrings of interest in his dick.

"Just a robe," Jared muses. "That's easy. I can just push it aside and wrap a hand around your cock."

"Oh, God," Richard says. Chokes out. Definitely, definitely interested. "Do you want me to — should I —"

"Not yet," Jared says. "For now I just want you to imagine. Imagine me holding you, stroking you slowly into hardness. A little rough, just the way you like, right baby?"

"Right," Richard says, already breathless. He fists the hand not holding his phone in the comforter. He contemplates the merits of putting Jared on speaker, having both hands free.

"Have I done it? Are you hard yet?"

Richard looks down, actually looks down to check, as if he can't feel the way his dick is flushed red and pressing heavy against his thigh. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah I am."

"Good," Jared croons. "That's so good. You can touch yourself now, if you want to."

"I don't want to," Richard says. He lets go of the blanket and wraps a clumsy hand around his dick. "I want you to. Fuck, it hasn't even been a day and I miss you."

It's not like they've never gone without sex before — Richard, personally, has gone literal consecutive years without sex, like, a number of years, and these last few months haven't changed that so drastically. But. He's gotten used to stolen kisses in the hallway, used to curling up and watching Netflix together on the couch, used to falling asleep in Jared's bed. To their knees brushing under the table at board meetings. To the way Jared kisses the top of his head when he brings Richard coffee.

He's gotten used to Jared's hand on his dick, so used to it that his own feels unfamiliar, almost.

He gasps into the phone as he jerks himself faster. It's a little rough — the way, Jared is right, that he likes it, his fingers barely slick with precome as they slide up and down his length.

"Richard," Jared says, and Richard startles at the sound of his own name. "Slow down."

"O- oh," Richard says. He lets go abruptly, his dick bouncing against his stomach. "Sorry. Shit. Are you —"

He's not sure what he's asking, not exactly, but Jared doesn't seem inclined to answer anyway.

"I wouldn't go that fast," Jared says. "I would draw it out, slow, long strokes. Teasing. If you can't touch yourself like that, you don't get to touch yourself at all."

Richard can feel his dick twitch at that, his balls tightening just a little. "Fuck, Jared," he breathes into the phone.

"Did you bring lube?" Jared asks, which is a ludicrous question: a) why would Richard bring lube on a business trip, who the hell is he fucking; and b) Jared had packed for him, lovingly folding his shirts into Richard's carry-on exactly the way Richard wouldn't have.

"What?" Richard says. "No. Of course not."

"Is there lotion in the bathroom?" Jared asks, and his voice is a cool counterpoint to the hitch in Richard's breathing.

"Y- yeah," he manages, "I think so."

"Go get it," Jared says smoothly. "I want you to fuck yourself for me."

"Oh, God," Richard says. He scrambles upright and into the bathroom, his dick a painful weight between his legs. There is, in fact, a disposable tube of cucumber-scented hand lotion sitting on the bathroom counter, and he picks it up in a hurry, practically running back to the bed.

"Okay," he says. "Okay. I got it." He clears his throat. "I'm — I'm back in bed now. Ready for you."

"Oh," Jared says, and he laughs. "You're not ready for me yet. Let's get you ready."

Richard curses under his breath and uncaps the lotion, shifting so the phone rests between his ear and his shoulder. "What do you — what should I —"

"Let's start slow. I want you to touch yourself, but don't penetrate yourself yet. Go slow," he says again. "Tease yourself. Like I would."

"Fuuuuck," Richard says. He plants his feet on the bed, knees bent, reaches behind himself to trace one cucumber-scented finger gently over his hole. Without really meaning to he slips in, finger pressing into himself up to the first knuckle, and Jared _tsk_ s at him when he lets out a gasp.

"I said —"

"I know, I know," Richard pants out. "But I — I wanna. I gotta. Feel you, please. Please."

"Oh, Richard." Jared chuckles softly. "If that's how you're going to be. Two fingers. Now."

"Oh, fuck," Richard says. He pulls his finger out quickly and squeezes out more lotion. It's a good thing he's only going to be here one night or he'd have to go down to Guest Services and ask for more, which would be. Embarrassing. To say the least.

This is how Jared always does it: either slow and teasing or quick and punishing, and Richard loves the former, he does, but it's the latter he's emulating now as he pushes two fingers roughly inside himself.

"Fuck yourself for me," Jared says. His voice is low, a little harsh, but his breathing is even. Richard has no idea how; his own is erratic, his chest heaving. His fingers twitch inside him and he moves them faster, in and out to the beat of his speeding pulse.

"Fuck," Richard says, "Jared, fuck. You feel so good. Inside me. Fuck, fuck."

"Is your other hand free?"

"Yeah, it — can I jerk off? Jared, please, I gotta —"

Jared makes a low humming sound, like he's really thinking about it. 

"Cup your testicles," he says finally. "Massage them. I want you to feel good; do you feel good?"

Richard curses again. He turns his head in toward the phone, squeezing it tighter between his shoulder and cheek. His fingers stutter to a stop deep inside him as he grips his balls with his other hand; he's too stupidly turned on to do two things at once.

"Fuck, fuck. I'm gonna — I'm close. Jared," he gasps out.

"Don't come yet. A little bit longer. Be good for me," he says, and Richard lets out a long moan.

"Wanna," he pants out. "Wanna be so good for you, Jared, _fuck_." His fingers curl inside him as if of their own volition and he squirms down on them. 

His fingers on his balls tighten, then go lax, hand falling down to the crevice of his thigh. He definitely cannot manage two things at once right now; he's not sure if he could jerk off if Jared ordered him to. He scissors his fingers and whimpers into the phone, a sound that would be embarrassing if he had the presence of mind to be embarrassed.

"You are," Jared says fondly, and it takes a second for Richard to even remember what he's talking about: Richard is being good, being so good. He clenches around his fingers and whimpers again.

"You're doing so well," Jared says. "So well. So good for me, Richard. I want you to touch your cock. Can you do that for me?"

"I — fuck. I don't know," Richard grits out. "I want to. I want you to — fuck, _Jared_ ," he says as he crooks his fingers inside himself again.

"You can," Jared says. "For me. Does it feel good? Does it feel like — like when I fuck you?" 

"No, shit, no, it's not as — miss you, miss you, God, Jared." He reaches up and shakily wraps a hand around his dick. He gives himself a few experimental tugs and groans loudly. It's too much, it's — not enough. It would be so much better with Jared's fingers wrapped around him, Jared's fingers pressed inside him. Jared's dick pressed inside him. Jared's lips on his.

The very thought is enough to nearly bring him over the edge.

"Please," he gasps out. "Can I — Jared, please."

His ass is slick with lotion and his dick is slick with precome and he feels. So full. So overwhelmed, and he just — wants Jared to say it's okay. Wants Jared.

Jared croons his name, whispers, "Come on now. Come for me, baby," and that's all it takes. 

He's spurting up into his own hand, barely managing to catch most of it — there's definitely going to be a comestain on this nice robe, fuck, but — he's not thinking about that now, not thinking about much of anything at all.

He doesn't even realize he's saying Jared's name, isn't sure how long he's been saying it, over and over like a mantra. Not that Jared can hear it: the phone has slipped down off his shoulder, off the pillow, and he's. Not sure how to pick it up again, with one hand covered in come and the other having recently been up his own ass.

He sits up, awkwardly cradling his hands to his chest, and just as awkwardly leans down to the phone, which thankfully landed screen-up. 

"Hey," he says. "I'll, uh. I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere."

Distantly, he can hear Jared laugh.

He gets to the bathroom and washed his hands quickly. There's not much he can do about the spot on the bathrobe, but — housekeeping has seen worse. Probably.

Fortunately it's only a few steps from the bathroom to the bed, and he picks the phone back up as he drops himself back down. "Hey," he says, still a little breathless. "Sorry."

Jared laughs warmly. "That's quite all right," he says. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh." Richard laughs a little, not as calmly as Jared had, an anxious trill. "That was. That was amazing. You're so amazing. I —" He cuts himself off abruptly.

There's a moment's pause before Jared says his name, a note of worry to it. "Richard, are you sure you're alright?"

"I love you," he says, practically one word, fast enough that he can't take it back.

There's silence from Jared's end of the line.

"Fuck," Richard says. "I'm sorry. It's — I know it's too soon, I know — saying it after sex doesn't even count, I —"

"I love you too," Jared says. "Richard. How could you ever doubt that?"

"— Oh. Really?" He can feel himself lighting up.

"Of course," Jared says, as if it should be obvious. Which, in retrospect — but Richard wouldn't want to. Assume. Doesn't want to assume.

"I love you," he says again, feeling the weight of the words in his mouth.

"I love you, baby," Jared says. There's a devious lilt to his voice when he adds, "And when you get home, I'll show you just how much."

**Author's Note:**

> for more of my feelings about these nerds, i'm also [on tumblr](http://robokittens.tumblr.com).


End file.
